


Cute: A Sacrifice of Character

by ThePrincessofPain



Series: Black Butler Poems [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: BAMF Elizabeth, Ciel Phantomhive is a Brat, Cute, F/M, Flat Shoes, I hope I did Lizzy justice, Is This Poetry?, Lizzy - Freeform, Maybe - Freeform, POV First Person, Self-Hatred, Self-Identity issues, Where is Sebastian?, Who Knows?, just read it, maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincessofPain/pseuds/ThePrincessofPain
Summary: i. Elizabethii. Preparingiii. Lizzy





	Cute: A Sacrifice of Character

**i. Elizabeth**

 

My father’s teachings ring in my ears as I disarm my opponent.

My sabre going against his chest with a resounding _ting!_

I move back as the boy tears his mask off,

Snarling that since I’m a **_girl_**   losing to me doesn’t count.

My father stops his words with a narrowed glance

As he pats my shoulder.

“Another victory, then Elizabeth?”

He asks with a sharp grin leveled at the boy.

The boy gulps.

I smile back just as sharply as I respond,

“Of course, Father.”

 

**ii. Preparing**

 

Paula readies me,

Silent as she brushes my hair back.

My hair is pulled into tight ponytails,

Not a single strand out of place.

Gently, she powders my face to cover any imperfections and lightly applies rouge to my cheeks.

My hands are covered in lace gloves that would easily be ruined if I tried to fight with them.

I am weighted down by petticoats and swathed in heavy fabrics.

They are pink and cream colored.

They are so very very  ** _cute_**.

It makes me hate them more.

“My Lady, it’s done.”

I look up into the mirror.

In it is a cute girl.

_Lizzy._

(It is only the thought that Ciel wants this stopping me from smashing my reflection)

 

**iii. Lizzy**

 

Smiling,

I race up to my fiancée.

My Ciel.

“Oh, Ciel! How do I look?”

I ask with a twirl.

(My flat shoes nearly make me trip as I spin.)

He doesn’t smile as he says,

“Cute as always, Lizzy.”

And my soul dies a little at his dismissive tone.

But, I can do better.

I can be cuter.

Even if it kills me,

I can be.

For Ciel.


End file.
